The Furnace Incident- Our house was built in the 1920s, and the furnace was originally a woodburner, converted into natural gas some time later. One day, it stopped working. Mr. CA was off that day, I worked, and I asked him to call a repairman to look things over. I called home on my lunch break and Mr. CA assured me that he had corrected the matter. The Toilet Disaster came to mind, and I felt rather uneasy. However, the furnace had instructions for ignition on it, so I hoped that Mr. CA used those. Upon returning home, I noticed the house was rather chilly. Mr. CA offered to show me how he was fixing the furnace. So, he grabbed some newspaper, wadded it up, picked up a lighter, and headed toward the basement. Sweet monkey fritters, I thought. He's been hurling flaming objects into the natural gas furnace all day. I tried to explain why this was a Bad Idea, but Mr. CA felt that since it worked fine all day, to continue with his current method. So, I grabbed the cats, who for some reason had followed us into the basement, and ran upstairs. Suddenly, what sounded like a sonic boom issued from the basement. Mr. CA teleported into the living room instantly afterward, and concernedly asked if his facial hair was still attached. Seems when he had thrown the flaming newspaper into the furnace, as I predicted, he was greeted with a rather impressive, but short-lived, fireball. At this point, I figured it would be a good idea for me to look things over. A quick inspection of the control panel showed that the furnace had somehow been turned off. Mr. CA said that he'd swept it with a broom earlier the previous day. He must have bumped the switch. I followed the ignition instructions and we had lovely, non-explody heat. I dearly love Mr. CA, and for his safety, he is no longer permitted to attempt to fix things without supervision.

Oh my goodness, this has me literally loling. You are hilarious! This reminds me of Mythbuster's famous "Am I... missing an eyebrow...?"

One of my exes left his lighter in his pants pocket. That made an interesting "boom" when it exploded in the dryer. Fortunately there wasn't a lot of fluid left in it.

I accidentally washed a tube of superglue once. I held a funeral for that load of clothes

When I was in a very remote place, dad and sis and I were surviving off the land. We had cheap plastic lighters and camp stoves. We knew well enough to keep lighters away from the camp stoves (the kind with an external refillable fuel tank, you could use white gas or kerosene). I was sitting at the makeshift table heating up some water for tea. Dad and sis were on the beds a few feet away (relatively small cabin, everything was living space, even the beds). The small fuel cannister was on one side of the burner, the lighter was on the other side of the burner with a few thermoses and a bowl between them.

All of a sudden, POOF! My face is slightly singed, the fleece of my pants is slightly singed, and the lighter is on fire. Literally on fire. There's a hole in the plastic on the side that's shooting out a half inch of flame. I'm about three feet back, having jumped back so far at the explosion in the first place, staring dumbfounded. Dad is making sure I'm okay, freaking out. Sis runs forward and grabs the lighter, takes it to the front door, and freezes. She's yelling at dad asking if she can throw it outside. Dad's yelling at her to just get rid of it, get rid of it, she's yelling back should I throw it into the puddle? What do I do now? It's raining, there's a huge puddle that we've been calling "Lake Lastname" because of how gigantic it is, and she aims the lighter to hit the middle of it. Fire's out, I'm okay, the water is ready for tea.

We're guessing there was a microfracture in the side of the lighter. It was sitting there, a few feet from an open flame, and the trace amounts of vapor escaping it got ignited and went right back to the source, but there wasn't much fuel left in it to make a huge exposion or fire. Still, it got my heart rate up for a while. When our guide came over from hearing the commotion, he laughed it off after making sure I was okay. The camera crew that came back the next day got mad at us. We should have waited until they were filming to do something exciting like that.

Also, the camera crew tried to burn the cabin down. They weren't happy with the lighting situation (in a situation with no electricity, running water, or anything else in an area that rains most of the time, what did they expect?) so they set up a propane lantern against the bedframe. Where sis's down vest was hanging. Burned through the shell, burned some of the feathers, I had to sew some duct tape in place (otherwise the cold would kill the glue on the tape). Instead of actually turning the lantern down, they just stick it against the wall. The wooden wall. The wall with no sort of fire retardent at all. And then they get surprised when they burn a hole in the wall and we have to pour our drinking water down the hole to make sure there's no embers in the insulation.

The guide who owns the cabin was less than pleased, but at least he knew exactly who to blame.

Also, when you fall in the bathtub, and have a bruise, on your upper thigh, that looks like you were hit with a softball thrown fast-pitch, don't forget it's there. You will be painfully reminded every time you sit in a chair.

When walking the dog (on loan for the holidays), and you put the umbrella down to go throw the poop bag in the trash in the garage, when said umbrella blows into the neighbor's yard, the ground WILL be wet and slippery from the rain. And you will (due to that and wearing flip flops) slip and go SPLAT in the muddy lawn. I was fine, held onto said dog's leash, but i was wet and muddy. My mom thought it was hilarious.

you would have though I'd learned my lesson about wearing flip flops in teh rain. Nope. Last time I did, i ended up cracking my tailbone. I was helping get my mom's wheelchair into a store, backing her in, and tilting it back slightly to get up a teeny step. Wet tile floor, and flip flops, my feet went out from under me, and mom and chair fell back as I landed on my behind. Thankfully she was ok as some of the staff were there holding the door and grabbed her before she smacked the floor. I got up and was fine, until i sat down. OUCH. I sat on a pillow for 8 hours in teh car the next day, all the way home.that was a couple of years ago, and i recently aggrevated it, and it STILL hurts if i sit in a particualr position.

SiamesecatYou got off better than my Sis. She wanted to walk my Aunt's new puppy that we were dogsitting. She had been told repeatedly that the dog was to new and untrained (Aunt's dogs were always extreamly well trained but she had this pup for only a month or so) and she was too small and the dog would run away.

So she got the leash wrapped it around her hand, tied it to her hand, and attached it to the dog. Got 2 houses down before Bridey saw a squirrel and took off down the road. Sis couldn't keep up and got dragged down the road. A couple of neighbors on our thankfully dead end street, saw and came running. They grabbed Bridey got sis untangled and sent kids in two directions one to get a doctor that lived next street over and one to get my parents. Mircle of Mircles this is one time sis didn't break a bone or knock out a tooth. SHe had road rash, and her shirt, windbreaker, and jeans were worse for the wear. Hate to think what she would have looked like if it hadn't been cool that day.

The neighbors that had stopped everything just in front of Mrs. Crabgrass's house (Named for our interpetation of the neighbor on Bewitched because she was always telling on us - but we weren't breaking rules or laws -except the ones in her head*.) Well she came out and started screaming about sis bleeding on her street. The neighbors didn't want to move her till my parents or the doctor looked at her. Finally one of the rescuers told her they all paid taxes for the road and Sis could bleed on it all she wanted and to get herself inside or at least shut up so they could understand sis.

*There is a law in the Memorial Villages that you can't ride your bike on the road when there is a hike and bike trail on the shoulder. (These are in better condition than the roads about double the usual width of a sidewalk). She had opposed the building on the trail. Something my parents and the other parents on the street had led the drive for after I had a scary accident being driven off the side of the road into the very deep ditch by a school bus. Our street didn't have a trail. None of the dead end streets had them only those that connected with other streets. She would call the cops on us for riding on the dead end street. The cops thought it hillarious because we were always with traffic, had headlights and tailights, had safety flags (it was the 70's), and used hand signals. She also called the cops when the Dad at the end of the street put up a volleyball net across part of his driveway. She kept insisting that the circle drive was part of the road, eventhough when the street was repaved they didn't touch his drive. Finally the villiage cops threatened to arrest her and did ticket her boys for going 55 in a 25 - the only reason the cops were on the street is she had called them.

If your child throws a toy ambulance down the toilet and it gets stuck in just the right spot so that you can neither plunge it down or snake it out, and you decide that the best course of action would be to physically remove the entire toilet so you can lay it on it's side, but the flange bolts are rusted so you have to cut them off, and you decide that the best tool to do so is an angle grinder, do not, for the love of all that is precious to you, accidentally get the edge of the grinder too close to the porcelain. If you do, you might accidentally nick the porcelain. If you do accidentally nick the porcelain with the edge of a 2.5 inch angle grinder, the explosion it will cause will be spectacular, and bits of flying, sharp edged former toilet will fly with such force that you will look like you've been flogged with a cat o' nine tails and you will be repairing holes in the wall and ceiling for months afterwards (as you find even more bits embedded into said walls and ceiling).

Logged

Some people lift weights. I lift measures. It's a far more esoteric workout. - (Quoted from a personal friend)

I am convinced that this is an actual thing - like if you mix selective amnesia with false bravado you get "Hot Touchy Syndrome" or something:

Microwaves and ovens make food hot. You should not touch hot food. Potholders are not just for decoration, nor are they a 'suggestion.' No matter how fast you think you are...no matter how much leeway you think your fingernail length will give you...you will hurt your fingers if you try and touch microwaved plates or bake pans without pads to hold them with. If you ignore this undeniable fact, then you are not allowed to be surprised by or complain about the pain of burnt fingertips.

Ya, don't do that. Just...just stop doing it and use potholders already.

Logged

"... for there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so."-William Shakespeare

"We find comfort among those who agree with us - growth among those who don't." ~Frank A. Clark

If your child throws a toy ambulance down the toilet and it gets stuck in just the right spot so that you can neither plunge it down or snake it out, and you decide that the best course of action would be to physically remove the entire toilet so you can lay it on it's side, but the flange bolts are rusted so you have to cut them off, and you decide that the best tool to do so is an angle grinder, do not, for the love of all that is precious to you, accidentally get the edge of the grinder too close to the porcelain. If you do, you might accidentally nick the porcelain. If you do accidentally nick the porcelain with the edge of a 2.5 inch angle grinder, the explosion it will cause will be spectacular, and bits of flying, sharp edged former toilet will fly with such force that you will look like you've been flogged with a cat o' nine tails and you will be repairing holes in the wall and ceiling for months afterwards (as you find even more bits embedded into said walls and ceiling).

That is some impressive destruction.

Logged

Meditate. Live purely. Quiet the mind. Do your work with mastery. Like the moon, come out from behind the clouds! Shine. ---Gautama Buddah

If your child throws a toy ambulance down the toilet and it gets stuck in just the right spot so that you can neither plunge it down or snake it out, and you decide that the best course of action would be to physically remove the entire toilet so you can lay it on it's side, but the flange bolts are rusted so you have to cut them off, and you decide that the best tool to do so is an angle grinder, do not, for the love of all that is precious to you, accidentally get the edge of the grinder too close to the porcelain. If you do, you might accidentally nick the porcelain. If you do accidentally nick the porcelain with the edge of a 2.5 inch angle grinder, the explosion it will cause will be spectacular, and bits of flying, sharp edged former toilet will fly with such force that you will look like you've been flogged with a cat o' nine tails and you will be repairing holes in the wall and ceiling for months afterwards (as you find even more bits embedded into said walls and ceiling).